


Maybe They Were Telling The Truth When They Said "There is No God"

by Philanecron



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Psychological Torture, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philanecron/pseuds/Philanecron
Summary: This is an OC ficRebecca Napier is a girl who has had her share of bad luck, being born the daughter of Jack Napier is a big chunk of why her life is currently a living hell. Having to deal with everything that comes with being caught on the line between good and evil is just worse. She had plans, she wanted to go to med school. All those plans ended when she became Joker's Ace of Spades. At least the Red Hood isn't after her, well besides when she's seducing him. That's different.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Other(s), Jason Todd/OC
Kudos: 6





	1. When Darkness Falls, You Run

"Living in Gotham is no easy feat. Especially when you are a street kid. You have a real hard time with forming relationships and once you do, those people become your everything. My everything died two weeks ago and I lost my life along with him. His name was Jason Todd-Wayne and damn it, we were so close we might as well have been fucking soulmates. I met him when he was nine and living in alleys. I was too but for reasons, I dare not repeat. Fuck, I really need a cigarette. We used to scam together, steal together, smoke together, survive together. And then I got put in Juvi for selling weed to some rich kids on the wrong side of town. My little Jailbird got adopted and I figured that yeah, we would never see each other again but at least he had a family now, food, a warm bed. When I got out of Juvi Hall, I applied myself and worked like a dog to get enrolled in Gotham Academy. If Jay could turn his shit around then so could I. Surprisingly, we met again and while we were no longer living together, we still were inseparable. I think I slept more at Wayne Manor than I did in my shitty apartment. That was how it was for a few years and I basically had my best friend and the closest thing to a father figure in Bruce Wayne of all people. It was nice. Then when he and Jay went on vacation he died, something to do with a bombing. I broke. I think Mr. Wayne broke, too. My invitation to the Manor was rescinded so I stopped going. I stopped a lot of things and started a few others. I got a therapist because I was falling apart. Which is the only reason I am keeping this fucking diary anyway. I went to his funeral today. I didn't cry. I don't cry in public. Neither did Mr. Wayne, though I suppose I can't blame him. He's used to deaths in the family. I have to watch for the bus home now so I guess this is the end of my first entry."

Rebecca shut her small leather-bound journal with a snap. God, she hated this weather. It was always so cold and damp in Gotham but winter was worst of all. It froze you to the bones. She was going to have to get out her electric blanket at this rate. The bus wasn't going to come for another fifteen minutes but writing was starting to make her feel things that should not be felt in Gotham's East End at midnight, things like compassion and remorse. Grifters and thieves pick up on those things and like a shark to blood will find you and break you for it.

Reaching back into her bag she placed the journal into it and withdrew her money and her cigarettes. What Alfred didn't know about her personal vices wouldn't hurt her. She lit it with practiced motions and took a long drag. Half the anxiety melted away within the first two minutes of her fag, and perhaps, when she got home she would take out some of the whiskey she'd stolen from the Wayne Manor cache. She knew Bruce wouldn't miss it. He was too busy mourning. Everyone had their own ways of coping and Mr. Wayne's was solitude and that suited her fine. She knew better than to try and push her luck with getting a new father figure anyways.

The bus finally came at 12:22, late per usual. She paid her fare and got onto the bus, clutching the bag that held some of the few belongings of Jason's that she stole from the house during the funeral. A picture of Bruce, Jason, and Becca, his first edition copy of "Pride and Prejudice", his favorite red hoodie and, last but not least, his half of the Wonder Woman friendship bracelets that they used to wear. That bag was more precious to her than her life right now and she wasn't letting it out of her sight until she got home and could hide them safely in her apartment.

The bus drove on and through three of the stops Becca people-watched her fellow passengers. There was a mother with her child, a sweet little boy with red, round cheeks and ruffled dark brown hair. His mother was trying to get him to sleep on the bus but he simply wasn't having it. He was laughing and giggling and having fun playing with his mother's headscarf. Becca smiled at the kid and he smiled back. So innocent, she thought, God, if you do exist, don't you ever take that away from him.

Nine more stops passed before she was in the right part of town. She had seen drunkards, drug dealers, and low-level gangsters come and leave. When the mother and child had left she breathed a sigh of relief that they hadn't been mugged. Descending the steps to the street, she turns around and tucks her dark brown hair behind her ear and thanked the bus driver.

"Thanks, Nathaniel. Get home to your kids safe."

"Take it easy, love." When the bus finally left she started walking down the street, her hands clutched around the knife in the pocket of her trench coat and the other discreetly feeling for the one strapped to her thigh. One could never be too careful living in the East End. Allies were full of hookers and pimps, gangsters, robbers, and rapists. There was no telling what kind of things someone could get mixed up in.

Okay that is a lie. She had been one of the many drug dealers roaming these streets before. Selling heroin and marijuana to anyone who could pay for it. That was a long time ago and things had changed. For one, the Bat doesn't skip the Narrows anymore. Kids dealing was one of the things that he pretty much got the Commissioner to stop immediately. Not that things had gotten miraculously less depressing here. No there were always homeless kids in Gotham. Some of them were her friends, still were, she would even let them shack up in her house when it got cold. She also knitted them sweaters for days when she couldn't let them stay. (Her landlord was a jerk.)

There was another block to go to get to her shitty apartment with peeling wallpaper and moldy grout when she noticed she had a tail. That is not something that anyone would consider "desirable" at almost two in the morning. Her hand tightened around the knife that she had in her pocket and she started walking a little faster. She was NOT getting raped tonight. She had managed to avoid that fate for five years now and tonight would not be the night that broke that streak.

Crossing the street, away from her apartment she decided to go to the twenty-four-hour diner that was at the end of the street. They made the best cherry pie and she knew the owner so if anything funny happened, he would call the cops. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that her tail was doing nothing to hide himself anymore. He was following her plainly and staying about four yards behind her. She maintained calm breathing and pushed forward, moving her hand to her cellphone and her knife. If worst came to worst, Babs could call her father. She typed out an SOS on her phone inside her pocket. (She still used a flip phone. Being poor sucked.) Pressing send she prayed that her friend was still awake.

Snatching her bag closer she could feel the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins. Rolling back her shoulders, she kept walking towards the diner.

She didn't make it. Yanked inside the alley before she had a clue, she kicked the bastard and brandished her knife. He tried to punch her but she ducked, feinted left and then slashed him in the leg. The cut was deep like she meant it to be. He snatched her by the hair and slammed her into the wall hard. Dizzy, she went in for the man's throat again. He blocked but she managed to put a nice stab into his forearm with her other knife and kicked him in the balls. The man grunted and her blood turned cold. She knew that voice. She spent the last six years of her life running from that voice and the man it belonged to. He took advantage of her surprise to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze. Black spots filled her vision almost immediately.

"I suppose since I wasn't around I can't blame you for having no manners." His voice was a low sinister purr.

"G-get a-w-way fr-from m-me" Becca choked out. His grip only tightened. She yelped.

"I don't want to hurt you, pumpkin, but you have been so mean to me. Playing hide and seek without establishing the rules." He was pouting melodramatically. If she could she would be rolling her eyes at him. He loosened his grip and as soon as he did she spat in his eye. He let her go and she slid down the wall, too dizzy to stand and feeling blood drip from her head to her neck.

"Bullshit," she pants, "all you've ever done was hurt me." She reached over to the bag of her things on the alley's cold ground. Joker kicked it away from her and she yells.

"I never hurt you pumpkin, I've let you have your rebellious tirade but now its time to come home."

"Home? I have no home thanks to you." Shit, this is bad. Her vision is double and her breathing is impacted by her swelling neck. She was going to pass out.

"Of course you have a home. I am your home. I am all you will ever have in this cold hard world. So let Daddy take care of you." His grin was acidic at this point. Crooked yellow teeth and slicing into his bleached white cheeks. Becca cringed.

"You are not my "Daddy". You haven't been for a long time, Jack." His grin goes away faster than it came and suddenly Rebecca finds herself getting kicked in the ribs by the man's gaudy spats shoes over and over. She can feel her ribs bruising and breaking. She hears the man laughing harder than she had ever heard him laugh before. Harder than when he found out that her mother was dead, God rest her soul. She looks up to the sky to see the Batsignal shining high onto the cloudy overcast that was the Gotham sky. She started laughing. It was quiet and broken and could be confused with sobs, but she was laughing. How could a man so high and mighty as the Bat fail to know that his adversary was out of Arkham? How did she know that she was not going to get saved tonight? She supposed that this was a long time coming. This was the second-worst day of her life and she never did anything halfway so why not top her previous? His laughter kept going and he kept going and soon the pain didn't seem to matter anymore. Nothing did and still laughing, she passed out.


	2. Well, There is Always Something Worse That Could Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babs was midway through her patrol when an SOS was forwarded to her comm. There were only four numbers that were programmed to do that. Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Rebecca. It wasn't hard to figure out who it was.

Batgirl was halfway through her patrol for the night when her comm notified her of an SOS message from her cell phone. There were only four numbers in her cell that were programmed to forward to her comm: Bruce, Jason, Dick, and Rebecca. She knew that it was risky to have someone not in on her nightly activities forwarded into her commlink but the girl had all but legally become family. Jason would have wanted her looked after. 

"B, are you okay?" Batgirl whispered into her comm. A grunt was her reply. She took that as a no. Dick was in Bludhaven and was not responding to anyone's calls. He was still pissed at Bruce for not telling him as soon as Jason died and only receiving a half-assed invitation to his funeral. Not that Barbara blamed him, it was pretty shitty of Bruce to do that. This meant that the SOS was from Rebecca. Barbara knew where she lived and swore to keep it a secret from Bruce as long as Rebecca checked in with her frequently and would always text her if she was in trouble because she could get the cops if Becca was in any way incapacitated. Now she was worried. She knew Becca could take care of herself, she'd seen it. So if she was sending her an SOS it had to be bad. Very bad. 

"B, I got an SOS message. It's from Becca." 

"Track her cellphone. I will be there as soon as I finish dealing with Poison Ivy." Batman's growl was even more terse than usual.

"On it. Batgirl out." She pulled up a screen on her gauntlet computer and tracked her signal. Babs knew better than to hope nothing bad had happened but she did want confirmation that her friend <strike>little sister </strike>wasn't dead. The cell signal led her to the East End. So she had been on her way home when she messaged. It was late, even for her. She could have been mugged or raped. That thought only made Barbara work faster. She needed to find her soon.

The signal led her into an alley where there was trash strewn everywhere. There was fresh blood on one of the walls and on the concrete. Becca's favorite black leather bag was torn and its contents were flung everywhere. Her cellphone was inside of one of the trashcans. One of her knives was left on the ground and she could see her pack of cigarettes flattened under what looked like a bloody footprint. There seemed to be a smear of blood leading out of the alley but it disappeared one foot from the entrance, just under the shadow of the rooftops so that someone would have to be looking to find the blood trail. This was worse than Babs thought. Becca was nowhere to be found and she was bleeding heavily. Someone took her and in Gotham that could be any number of groups: human traffickers, pimps, gangs, or rogues. She needed to report.

"B, you need to get over here. Becca has been taken. There is blood everywhere in this alley and her cellphone is in a trashcan." 

"Be there in five." Eloquent as always. 

It was more than five minutes later when Batman arrived. Babs was pissed at this point. Did the man no longer see any sense of urgency? His dead son's best friend has just been kidnapped. The girl was practically family. She understood mourning but blatant disregard for others was not okay, especially since he's Batman. It's in the job description. 

"What took you so long?" Barbra asked flatly. 

"Not the time. The signal led you here? Why would she be here in the middle of the night?" All business as usual. She would get back to his moodiness later. 

"Her cellphone is in that trashcan. There is blood on the left wall and on the ground leading out of the alley. She was moved before we got here but the blood is only about an hour old." Babs quickly dodged. Becca would kill her if Bruce found out where she was living. Then again, her apartment might hold some clue as to why she was taken. 

"That didn't answer my question," Bruce hissed "what aren't you telling me?" 

Barbra deliberated for a few seconds. She could distract him with forensics and the stuff that was in Becca's bag and check the apartment herself or she could tell Bruce and add to the crushing guilt that he was already experiencing. She chose the former. 

"I don't know. Look at her bag though. She took some of Jason's things from the house earlier." Babs lied. It was an obvious tactic but he was hoping that his grief would do its job and let her get away with it. 

"I know. I didn't stop her because she deserved something to remember him by." Bruce said, his voice hollow. He cleared his throat quietly. "Gather her things. We'll do forensic testing at the Cave. And while the tests complete themselves you can tell me what you're hiding from me." He stalks to the back of the alley and starts collecting samples of Becca's blood. 

_Shit. Of course. He's the Batman, not even grieving will that man be susceptible to lies. _

Barbara did as she was told and gathered the bag and all of its contents and dug the cellphone out of the trashcan. She held the photograph of Jason and Becca longer than she perhaps should have. There was no reason not to be sentimental but damn it. She missed Jason. She was worried about Becca. Thankfully, Bruce didn't see the tear that streaked down her face from under her cowl before she wiped it away quickly. 

When they finished gathering the evidence, they got into the Batmobile and Bruce drove them back to the cave. Barbara could tell that this was eating at Bruce because as soon as the hood of the Batmobile closed, his posture started to show the subtle signs of his anxiety. The tenseness of his shoulders, how loudly he was breathing, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. If someone didn't know what to look for, he looked normal, but Barbara knew what that he was feeling stressed. It was the same body language he showed when he found Jason's note the night he left for Ethiopia. 

When they got back to the Cave, Alfred was waiting for them at the Batcomputer. Bruce quickly updated him on the situation and that determined set of Alfred's eyes gave her a sense of comfort. They would find her. They had to. The family couldn't handle twice in one year. Bruce took the evidence, it was almost painful to call it that, out of the car and began to set up the tests. Barbara took this chance to slip into the locker area to shower and hopefully calm her nerves. 

The hot water did little to help her anxiety more than provide a smokescreen with which to hide her tears. Too soon. This was way too soon. First Jason is killed and now Becca was taken within two months. How was it that when tragedy struck it had to strike especially hard in this house? Dwelling wouldn't help, she needs to figure out what to say to Bruce about why Becca would be in the Narrows at two in the morning. Bruce knew that she had been to Becca's house before and some of her haunts, hence why he asked her about her reasons for being there. Aside from Jason, Barbara knew her best. 

At this point, if she spent much more time in the shower Bruce would know that something was up. She put her wet hair into a ponytail and got into some sweats. Bruce had ditched his cowl and was working on the computer. Without turning around he gestured her towards the chair that was next to his. Barbara sat down.

"So what secret of hers are you hiding?" Bruce began. Nice cop first. Classic Bruce, using the tactics he would use on the boys if one of them did something stupid and was trying to hide it. Giving them a false sense of security, however, only ever worked on Dick. Jason was professional about his secrets and only life-threatening circumstances would ever get him to talk, or in Bruce's case forcing him to come and sit through meetings all day. 

"Nothing." If Bruce knew the truth it would crush him. She can't do that right now. She promised, a very pissed off, Dick that she would look after Bruce and that is what she is going to do. 

"I know you're lying." Step two, if nice doesn't work try logic. Jesus come up with something original. 

"So? I'm not telling. You'll have to take that up with her when we find her."

"There could be details that we are missing because you refuse to tell me what she was doing. I can't do my job without all the evidence." 

"You've had less to go on before." 

"Barbara please don't do this." Bruce tries nice again.

"No. She deserves her privacy. She's not your kid Bruce but, damn it, she's my friend." 

"That's not fair. She stayed in my house most days and took care of my son. I owe her." 

Barbara got _pissed. _Is really all he can put to Becca a debt? No concern, no care, no _love? _

"No. You owe Jason." It was a low blow but it's too late to take it back. She walked out after grabbing her duffle. She would search Becca's apartment tomorrow and if anything there was relevant then _maybe _she would tell Bruce. As it stood she was tempted to do the investigation herself. This was ridiculous. Bruce was a stubborn man and concealed most of himself but Barbara was tired of his shit. 

The next day when Barbara was done with her shift at the library she stopped by Becca's place. She took the spare key out of the loose brick and went inside. Thankfully, Becca hadn't let anyone into her house for the season yet. Usually, the place would be teaming with homeless kids right now and then she would have to tell someone who could take them to any one of the many orphanages that were on this side of town. 

Walking into her living room she frowned. It was very sparsely decorated due to Becca's financial situation and her couch was very old and to most, this would be the cause of their distaste, but there was Bruce sitting on the couch in full business attire. Barbara cursed. 

"How did you find this place?" 

"I followed your cell." Bruce crossed his legs and gestured to the place beside him. Barbara chose to remain standing. 

"Well, did you find anything?" Keep it business and hopefully, she can circumvent the argument that is bound to ensue. 

"Other than a few photos of her and Jason, an unholy amount of health code violations, I am getting this building _condemned_, by the way, and her cigarette stash, no I didn't find anything." Bruce looked at Barbara with a stone-cold expression. "She barely has any personal belongings besides her sketchbooks and her mother's locket." 

"I know. But I was hoping that there was something else here." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" _Shit._

"What do you mean?" Playing dumb was going to get her nowhere but she sure as hell was going to try. Bruce gave her a look. Yeah, that worked about as well as she expected it would. 

"Why didn't you tell me she was living here, alone?" 

"She asked me not to." Bruce took a pause at that. He slouched into the couch and looked utterly defeated. The man who could stop an Arkham breakout and not bat an eye was defeated. Maybe he cared more than she thought he did. 

"We'll case the place for fingerprints and move her things into the Manor." Bruce got out a scanner from his pocket. Always prepared as usual. 

"Are you sure about that Bruce-" The look he gave her could make Ra's al Ghul piss himself. Her mouth went shut with an audible collision of her teeth. 

"I didn't extend my hand to her while she was grieving. I didn't extend my hand to her when Jason was still alive. I'm going to make things right." He growled. 

Barbara took out her own scanner and began looking for fingerprints. 

Later when night had fallen and Gotham took on its most sinister appearance, the Dark Knight was home designing a bedroom. The Manor was welcoming of Becca's things. Her bedroom would be decorated well for when Bruce got her back. The fingerprints in Becca's house were garbled at best. Her own prints mixed in with over twenty others; Barbara told him that Becca, poor as she was, would open her home to homeless kids of the Narrows during the colder months on weekends. In Gotham that was anytime between late August and early March. As rough and tumble as she was, the girl showed a kindness that was lost on most people. The Manor knew, though. Bruce could tell. 

Bruce could tell because of the scent of chamomile and vanilla that filled her room once he started putting her things in the guest room she usually occupied. The walls there were purple and there was a large window giving view to the grounds in back. She picked this room the first night she slept over because she liked the view of the woods. Since the window has gotten incrementally bigger and a window seat had been installed. She thought it was Bruce being welcoming and thanked him, but it was the Manor who did that. Her sketchbooks were placed on the desk in there are fresh sheets placed on the bed. 

Alfred was happy that Bruce wouldn't be alone. He feared for his son's sanity after Jason's death. When Bruce told him that Becca lived in the Narrows alone in an apartment that was more mold than wood at this point it was decided. She would be living in the Manor from now on. The subsequent spontaneous lighting of the fireplace sealed that with the Manor's approval. 

Alfred walked in to see Bruce fussing over bedsheets and smiled. He took them from him. Bruce looked at him incredulously.

"I think the city might need her Dark Knight, Master Bruce." Alfred said with a pointed look and a smirk. Bruce frowned. "I'll take care of this. You go save her."

Bruce, determined, went down to the Batcave to check if there were any new leads.


	3. Why did I somehow expect better?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becca awakes in one of Joker's hideouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of torture. Read at your own discretion.

When Becca woke up, she was in a dark room and she couldn't move her arms. Stifling initial panic, she tried to get up which she found to be next to impossible without any use of her arms and the cracked ribs. From the position, she would have to guess straitjacket. Great. Was his plan to let her sit here until she drives herself insane? Ha. That would take a while, Becca thought she was some pretty good company, not that she talks to herself...much. The first subject of conversation with herself would be the lovely escape attempt she would be planning. There was no way in hell she was going to stay here. Not after what happened when she was ten. 

_ It was 12 in the morning. No one was home except her and she was terrified. Mommy was in the Hospital and Daddy was working late. Temp work he said. She didn't know what that meant other than that she would have to make her own dinner and go to bed by herself. Good thing she knew how to make ramen. She used her glittery blue step stool to reach it in the pantry. All by herself. She may have burned herself with the hot water just a little. After she ate, she took a shower and got in her favorite fuzzy blue pajamas that would make her feel safe. She tried to go to sleep but she couldn't. She got out her copy of Grimm's Fairytales. She was reading Snow White when she heard noises at the door. Mommy said never to open the door when she wasn't home, but they weren't leaving. She opened the door and a man was standing there. He looked nervous.  _

_ "Hello. Who are you?" _

_ "I work for the hospital. We tried calling your parents, but no one was answering the phone. Where is your father?" _

_ "Work."  _

_ " Oh. Well, maybe I will come back another time?" _

_ "Why? Is Mommy okay?" _

_ "I- kid, I, She's in heaven." Oh. _

_ "I'm from here. You can just say she died." _

_ "Yes. Pneumonia." _

_ Becca nodded, not uncommon for the part of the city she came from. Death was common and expected. _

_ "Have a goodnight and tell your father to call the hospital." He walked away and she shut the door behind him. Numb. That was all she really felt. She knew that her mother was going to die for a while and had already cried all her tears. She went back to her storybook.  _

_ At three in the morning, there was more noise at the door. Becca was asleep by then, but the noise woke her up.  _

_ "Daddy?" She crept out of her room and went to the door. Her father was wearing something funny. Why the cape? _

_ "Daddy?" _

_ The man nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around and instead of facing grey eyes that matched her own she was faced with glowing green and a too-wide smile.  _

_ "Hey, sweetheart you scared me." Something is wrong. _

_ "Daddy, are you okay?"  _

_ "I'm fine sweetheart. I'm just a little tired. Can you go get Daddy something to drink?" That she was used to. She went to the fridge and got him a bottle of beer. Her dad took the bottle and kissed her temple. He opened it and drank half of it at once. That usually meant that Daddy was stressed out like when he wouldn't get paid by the comedy clubs. He shrugged off his suit jacket and halfway collapsed on the couch. "Come here, pumpkin." _

_ Becca went to the couch and sat down next to him. He pulled her closer. He held her close for a long time. Sometimes he would mumble things under his breath like he was talking to someone else. Becca tried hard to ignore it. His arms tightened around her and she wiggled herself around to hug him back.  _

_ "A man came to the house while you were gone. He said that something happened to Mommy, that she's in Heaven with the angels now." _

_ "I know. Someone told me."  _

_ There was a long and unpleasant silence after that. They stayed like that for some time. Then things started to go wrong. Becca got up to go to her room so her Daddy could read her the rest of her storybook. Meanwhile, the man that was wearing Jack Napier's face was furious. A child. What the hell was he supposed to do with a child? The only reason he came to this address was because that's what was on the driver's license inside the coat he was wearing. She looked like him. Oh no, this would not do at all. He had to get rid of her. There was no other way, so he got the revolver out of his suit jacket and waited for the little brat to come back.  _

_ When she did, he took the shot, but he missed because his hands were shaking too much. Damn. Becca screamed and ran back toward her bedroom and shut the door. He ran after her and began banging on the door. Tears pricked her eyes as she began trying to find something, anything, to fight back with. Too late, he broke through the door after he shot the lock. He aimed the gun at her only for her to grab her copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and chuck it at his head as hard as she could, break past him and run out of the door.  _

_ That wasn't her Daddy. Not anymore.  _

_ She spent her first night of many on the streets, cold, alone, and confused but most importantly, angry. _

The memory of that night brought tears to her eyes. She hated the Joker for taking her family from her. Her only family left. Mommy and the baby had died that night. Daddy wasn't dead but he might as well have been. She was alone in this world now that Jason was gone too. She supposed that only she would care if she died and that if she was dead then she couldn't care anyway. Her tears were always silent because she knew that no one cared if she was crying, and even now she cried silently and alone in the dark. 

Sometime later after the one crack in the ceiling went pitch black, someone opened the door and let in lots of light. She twisted to meet her captor, broken ribs protesting her every movement. Joker leans down and his rancid breath fans across her face. She almost gagged but figured that it might end up offending him and Lord knows she doesn't need anything else broken. 

"You put up quite the fight sweetheart. Let's get your ribs looked at. I would hate for you to suffer." That was straight-up bullshit. She turned her face away from him. "Ah ah ah, come on, you know that you deserved that. You were being disrespectful." If she could move her arms, she would deck him in the throat. Without the use of her arms, she's vulnerable right now and so being aggressive would be stupid. If she plays along there is a chance that she could get removed from these restraints and then she could escape. This almost reminds her of the time she got nabbed by some guys in Two-Face's gang and she had to escape from them, granted her escape plan made it so she had to sell drugs for them so she wouldn't get bumped off, but at least she wasn't marked. 

Joker picked her up princess style and carried her off to another room where there was a metal table and lots of scary-looking equipment and some things that she was 99.9 % sure were illegal. Not to mention the famed Joker venom/gas that had killed so many in Gotham that the stuff was recognizable even to the smallest child. She once knew some kids in a building he bombed with that stuff. Not a single one made it out. Her hatred of the man carrying her grew a thousand-fold.

He laid her gently on the table. 

"Don't attack me." He took a stiletto blade and began to cut the straitjacket off her. Her arms came free, but they were numb and cold and filled with that near painful pins and needles sensation. They hung loosely at her sides while she fought to regain feeling in them. Meanwhile, Joker was touching her ribs with a feather touch. White blinding pain lit up her world when he jammed his thumb into one of the broken ones and she screamed. "Whoa, you could give Black Canary a run for her money!"

"Stop it!" She bit out. The pressure was removed, and she could breathe and see again.  _ Jesus Harold Christ that was fucking awful.  _

"I'm so sorry, pumpkin." He smirked, _ that fucking cunt. _

"That fucking hurt, asshole!" 

"Hey, what did I say about the disrespect?" Joker singsonged. 

"You don't press in on someone's broken ribs without some screaming and cursing. That's not how it works."

"I just wanted to see the extent of the damage." He had the goddamn nerve to shrug. Fuck him. Just how long is the nice act going to keep up before he goes back to being the colossal dick she knows and loathes? This was seriously starting to weird her out.

“There are four that are definitely broken. I’ll go grab my guy.” He left the room and two beefy looking thugs walked in. Becca was not about to look weak in front of anyone, a lesson that the streets had taught her the hard way. She hard stared them, every bit of her hatred for the Joker burning in grey eyes. The thugs didn’t particularly mind this because they were there to do a job, but Becca had no intention of making their job an easy one. Hiding a scalpel under her sleeve from one of the small medical trays near her she kicked the rest of the wheeled tray over.

“Oops, silly me. I can’t bend down to pick this up. Can you help me out here?” She said in the sweetest most scared voice she could muster. This was almost way too easy. One of the thugs, she decided to nickname him Biff, walked over with his big, loud gait and proceeded to bend down to pick up the tray and the tools that had been on it. When he did, she jammed the scalpel into the back of his neck, leaped off the table and began to look for an exit. The other thug didn’t have a gun thank god, but he did have a Taser. She kicked him in the balls and ran into one of the hallways to try and find a door.

Unfortunately, never having been in this place before, it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Who the hell made the blueprints for this place anyway? It was like they were drunk when they planned this place. There were so many dead ends that she was getting dizzy. Every so often she heard thundering footsteps and the sound of her father screaming at his underlings to find her ASAP. She really needed to find a fucking window. The only ones she had come across had been rusted or nailed shut. What kind of nuthouse-oh, right this is Joker’s operation. There was no sanity involved in creating this place. There is no rhyme or reason when it comes to him.

The footsteps were getting closer and her pulse was skyrocketing. She knows she’s super in for it if she gets caught but at the same time, she wants to look Joker in the eyes while she escapes, just to see his expression. This train of thought has her releasing a small giggle from the back of her throat, whether it be from nerves or adrenaline or if she really is losing it, the thought of Joker’s face as he gets bamboozled is hilarious. A frown on a clown!

Unluckily for her though, it’s at this moment a purple silk gloved hand finds itself around her mouth. Fuck.  _ I am so dead _ .

“There you are pumpkin. You gave us all quite the scare. I feel like you are just trying to be naughty on purpose. I suppose I will have to punish you again. But first, let’s go back to my office and get you looked at.” His voice slithered through her head like a worm, sending unpleasant shivers down her spine. 

He dug his bony hand into her spine and proceeded to drag her back toward the room with the creepy looking metal table. Becca thought she was done for. Joker’s medical lackey wrapped her ribs up tight and she breathed a momentary sigh of relief for the reduction of pain in her torso. That moment of bliss was cut sufficiently short when she was forcefully grabbed by a smiling Joker and strapped to the metal table.  _ Oh no. _

“I’m going to fix that brash attitude of yours. Hold still.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“No, I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to teach you how to be a good little girl.” That response didn’t make her feel any better. He forced a rubber bite guard into her mouth despite her attempts to bite his finger instead. Then he left for about a minute and came back with electrodes. Becca’s eyes widened and she began to squirm in her bonds.  _ Anything but that. _

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to lose my precious little girl.”  _ Like I believe your crazy ass. _

The pain was so bad she didn’t feel it at first. When the electrodes touched her temples, she only felt the cool metal and then a second later the pain hit all at once, coursing through her body through every nerve making every part of her body twitch. Her jaw locked on the bite guard and she was thankful for it because she would have bitten out her own tongue. She could even feel the electricity in her teeth, and it felt like the nerves under the enamel could burst any second. The metal of her piercing was becoming heated and it was almost searing her skin. As soon she felt like her heart was going to explode from the voltage he stopped. He removed the bite guard.

“Are you going to be a good girl?” She spat blood from her gums into his face.

“ _ Fuck you! _ ” She hoarsely spat through clenched teeth. He shoved the bite guard into her mouth again and replaced the electrodes. The pain was blinding, and it almost wiped out her vision for a few seconds. Her breathing was coming in gasps and the lack of oxygen and electricity was deeply impacting her ability to hold coherency through the whole experience. All she could think was  _ ‘Please, God, do not let my heart explode.’  _ And again, just when she thought that she was about to die, he stopped. This continued for what seemed like forever, when she couldn’t take it anymore, she just gave up. He took the guard from her mouth again and asked:

“Will you be good for me, pumpkin?” In that stupid lilting quasi accent.

“Y-yes!” Becca coughed barely able to speak with her whole body nearly numb from the electricity and the muscles in her jaw, tongue, and diaphragm spasming. Her brain wasn’t getting near as much oxygen as it needed and her head was swimming. Thinking was almost painful to her overexerted nerves. Her vision was blurry and the lights in the room, though dim were painful to her bloodshot eyes. 

“Yes, what?” Was he for real? Becca would rather bite out her tongue than call him that but she knew that if she didn’t she’d be there for another hour and she didn’t know if she would live if that were to happen. The edges of her vision were dark and everything felt raw and prickly. 

“Yes, Daddy.” Her voice came out as a broken rasp, her voice raw from screaming. 

“Good girl. But your punishment isn’t over yet. You killed one of my men.” He strode to one of the tables with chemicals on it and began going through test tubes and beakers.

“I…. killed him?” Becca squeaked, sure she’d beaten some people so bad they had to go to Leslie and get a cast but she’d never  _ killed  _ anybody before. It almost seemed surreal. 

“Yes, you did, though I suppose I should thank you for getting rid of that waste of space who couldn’t do his job correctly.” He said nonchalantly. She shouldn’t be surprised he doesn’t mind that he died but then, why is he still punishing her? He apparently found the syringe that he wanted and walked back over to her.

“I really have to thank ol’Johnny boy the next time I see him, though I did put my own little twist on it. I have been eager to test this and since opportunity came a-knocking you get to be my lucky little Guinea pig! You should feel honored, I worked hard to turn this into something special!” He chortled.

“W-what is it going to do t-to me?” As much as she loathed to admit it, she was terrified. What was it going to do to her? Scarecrow was nothing to mess with. She knows because in Park Row sometimes drugs would be cut with fear toxin and those people went through horrible hallucinations a thousand times worse than a bad LSD trip.

“You’ll find out soon enough!” And with that he inserted the needle and pushed the plunger, cackling the entire time. The liquid felt like ice in her veins that was getting hotter and hotter the further away from the injection site it got. The adrenaline in her system was working against her, making the drug disperse through her body more quickly. Then the hallucinations started.

_ His face was enlarged, and his features enhanced as a ten-year-old version of herself died at his hands in all sorts of ways. Shot, stabbed, bashed brains, peeled off skin. Her younger self never screamed, never cried, she only ever said “I love you, Daddy,” before she died. She stared her own dead grey eyes straight on and watched as her younger self became pale as she died. Black tears would stream down her face when she cried silently at the latest cause of death. Becca could not move and could not look away and she outwardly screamed and cried out in pain at the burning of the serum and the horrific images in front of her. _

_ Then it changed, Jason beaten and bloodied at the hands of Willis Todd begging for her help, but she wasn’t there to save him. Tears burned hot down her face without restraint. She missed her friend and hated to see him suffer. Jason’s face was again gaunt from hunger and lack of sleep younger than her waiting for her to come back to him accosted by gangsters. Beaten bloody and broken, his young body looking like it had been through a trash compactor. _

_ Then the two visions combined, and it was Joker beating Jason to death over and over again. She screamed so loud and so hard she felt something tear. She screamed for Jason for him to run away, for her father to stop. Eventually, she couldn’t cry anymore, and she began to laugh. Uncontrollable laughter that she felt sick to her core for. She can’t help it though so she continues to laugh until she can’t even feel her own body. _

_ Then a miracle happens. She can finally move, and she tears into Joker with a piece of a wood plank from the alley, beating him until his cracked open skull spilled his brains into the street. But it didn’t change Jason’s fate. He was dead once again. She laughed at it. The irony. Everything she ever loved had been taken from her and it was always all her fault. _

The serum was dying down when Joker gave her a dose of local anesthetic, and she passed out. Blood was pouring from the corners of her mouth where she had screamed so violently, she tore open her face. Tears streaked the bloody trails down her neck, and she had nearly broken through the restraints with how hard she had been pulling. Joker was satisfied with his little experiment but now he needed to fix his precious little doll.

When Becca woke up next, she was alone in that dark room again, her face was aching, and she was groggy. Her muscles ached and there were bruises around her wrists and ankles. That damn table, that fucking syringe full of death juice. She would kill him. She had no reservations about it anymore.  _ No. That’s what he wants. I am not going to delve further into sin just because of this. I am stronger than that. I will uphold my promise to God. _

_ “Angel of God, My Guardian Dear. _

_ To whom God’s love commits me here, _

_ Ever this day, be at my side, _

_ To light and guard, to rule and guide. _

_ Amen” _

Becca really hoped someone, anyone, even Batman if he had the time, would come for her soon. 


	4. Sour Truths Go Down the Same As Bittersweet Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce hits a wall. He and Selina have an arrangement. New information is brought to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: depictions of violence and sexual foreplay. 
> 
> Note: This story takes place in 2014

Bruce was getting almost nowhere.The only DNA evidence at the scene belonged to one Rebecca Anne Napier and there was no sign of anything else. Her fingerprints, her blood, her hair strewn everywhere but no other discernible evidence that anyone else had been there. This was puzzling, usually there was something to go on by now at least. This was a professional job and in order to get answers he was going to have to ask around. Who to start with was the real question, Deadshot didn’t deal in abductions, Deathstroke was not in the United States at the time of the abduction, and the few other mercenaries that he knew would not take jobs like this one for no reason. There had to be a way to track a wire transfer but to do that he would have to know who’s routing numbers to scope. Bruce was getting tired of running into walls headfirst. Batman needs to go out tonight before he busts an artery. 

The air in Gotham was as polluted as usual with the combination of smog and city lights tinging the sky a muddy looking red. Batman looks down on Gotham, unlike most nights he hasn’t charted a path for his patrol, too caught up with his current case and arrangements for another funeral for Robin, Jason’s funeral had been almost a month ago to dispel any connection between the two. He should call Dick, he missed the first funeral because Bruce hadn’t called. Nightwing deserves to be there for Robin. This isn’t what he needs to be focusing on right now, the frequency that is tuned into the police radio in his cowl notifies him that there is a major arms deal that’s going on by the docks. Something else that he had been brushing aside was the normal crime in Gotham, he’d been focusing mainly on the costumed rogues gallery and leaving the usual crimes to the police. He decides to go check it out and hopefully reduce that amount of tension he can feel in his shoulders. 

When he gets to the docks it looks like pandemonium. Two Face. His gang was the one receiving the drop. Harvey, another of his failures, his best friend reduced from attorney general to criminal. He misses his old friend; it's an ache that accompanies the one left by Jason and his parents. He steps in and tries to settle the arms deal gone sour. Harvey and his men have taken the guns and begun testing them on the dealer and his men. Harv himself has a machine gun and is spraying bullets across the way causing an indiscriminate red spray of gore through the warehouse. He hit a few of his own in the blast but he did what he set out to accomplish, and felled about ten of the dealer’s men. Bruce decided working his way to Harvey from behind was a better stratagem then going right between the two of them. His armor was a new WE tri-weave titanium and he had no desire to test it against a fully automatic machine gun. He took out the goons quickly and with precision and thankfully without alerting his deranged pal with the machine gun. He takes Harvey from behind with a smoke bomb and fights him hand to hand, the machine gun tossed away in the scuffle. They’re soundly exchanging blows with Batman leading the fight with ease until there is a blinding white pain in his side. Two Face laughs and brandishes his pistol like a prized trophy and Bruce steals a glance at his side, no blood but a crushed bullet sits in the armor plate. He is going to have one hell of a bruise and should probably check for internal bleeding when he gets back to the Cave but for now he’s fine. He snatches the hand with the pistol like a viper and hits the pressure point in his thumb so he drops it. He then flips him over and cuffs him. The arms dealers have either run or been mowed down by gunfire and he can hear GCPD sirens on their way. He knocks Harvey out and cuffs him to a rail. 

He needs to go to the Cave and check his injury but it's hardly 1 AM and he has so much more ground to cover, his side can wait. He pushes through the night. There is a robbery around 02:00 which takes up little of his time, just a few amateurs trying to rob a Western Union. He runs into Selina around 02:55. 

“Hey Bruce.” That teasing lilt at the end of her words as always sent a shiver down Bruce’s spine as the whip wraps around his waist.

“Hello, Selina” He throws a hint of that growl he knows she likes into his voice. It’s been so long since they’ve last flirted. She practically dances into his arms.

“What’s wrong, darling, bad night?” She purrs the word darling in his ear, licking the seam where his jaw meets the edge of his cowl. 

“Bad year is more like it.” He sighs, tilting his head back to the low breeze in the air. If it weren’t for the possibility of satellites focusing in on them right now he would take off his cowl and let the blow cool his face. He turns back to Selina who walks over to the fire escape and pulls up a black bag, some red wine and two glasses. She pours him a mostly full glass and does the same for herself and they sit on the roof to talk. No boundaries, no schemes, no rooftop affair, just talking between friends. Friends with benefits. 

“What would happen if we just stopped?” Selina poses, green eyes staring into his soul.

“You know that I can’t stop, and that you can’t either. You love the thrills too much.”

“Like you don’t enjoy the spike of adrenaline you get hopping roofs and driving that tactical racecar of yours.” 

“You’re right, I do. But that’s not why I do this.” 

“Why Bruce? Why  _ do  _ you do this? Why do you go on this nightly crusade to catch criminals who will just break back out anyway? If you’re so focused on your crusade for justice you would put me in Blackgate.” She’s exactly like her namesake, trying him, testing him, taking a playful swipe claws half extended. 

“I can’t tell you that Selina. You know I can’t tell you that. And you’re right if it were about justice alone I would put you in Blackgate and we wouldn’t have nights like this one, together drinking wine instead of exchanging blows. But I like this, I know you do too, so why try to ruin it with conversations like these.” Bruce looks into those emerald pools and traces his fingers along her jaw, over her lips, down her neck and seals it with a heated kiss. A camera flash they don't notice makes a blip in the darkness of the slum they're perched over.

The two of them end up draining the bottle of wine. They decide to work it off playing rooftop tag they race from where they are near the docks to the WE building. Tagging each other with slight gropes and teases until they are satisfied and stimulated and they find themselves panting on top of Bruce’s building. The camera follows them snapping action shots all the way. They share a few rough kisses, all tongue and teeth and wandering hands. She rakes her claws over his back but they do little more than glance off his cape. He tugs her helmet off without her noticing and bunches his hands in her sunshine blonde hair. She moans lowly and wraps her legs around his waist and grinds against him. He takes the opportunity to make her mewl by biting into the soft skin of her neck. The bruises will show tomorrow and she will hate them but all it means is that he will be wearing her marks as well. 

“Let’s go back to my house.” He growls into her ear, the full dominant bass of Batman, “You don’t want to get scrapes from concrete again.” He buries his face in her neck at her pulse point and begins to shower her with kisses.

“Alright but I’m staying for breakfast. That butler of yours makes a damn good french toast.” 

“French Toast it is” He scoops her up and grapples off the building. Tim checks his film. These are some of the best Batman and Catoeman candids he's gotten so far. No enhancement needed. The twelve year old boy smiles, they really ought to just get married already. 

They get in the Batmobile, set to automatic, and proceed to make out until they reach the Cave. It’s not her first time in here and it certainly won’t be the last. They strip each other as they go to the elevator that surfaces in his study. It's all hands and mouths and skin on their way to the Master suite, thankfully Alfred is not to be found in the hallway to the family wing. He tosses her onto the bed and starts his work. 

The world slips away and for the first time in months he feels some semblance of okay. He isn’t lonely, he has Selina, he has Alfred, and he promised to work on getting Dick back. 

  
  


Morning is not exactly welcome when it comes. He wakes up to soft lips and the smell of Hermes 24 Faubourg, his last birthday present to her. He smiles and finds her lips with his blindly, much more fun that way. He wants to stay in bed with her like they did when Jason was staying with the Kents for two weeks in June a year ago, they were wrapped up in his silk sheets for a week straight without coming up for air besides the times that Alfred would bring them food. Before they can have “breakfast in bed” his phone rings. It’s Barbara. 

“Bruce, I have a lead.”

“Where were you last night? I was patrolling alone.”

“I just told you, I have a lead. I combed the crime scene all night.”

“What is it?”

“Hair. Green hair.” Bruce’s blood runs ice cold. For the second time in one year that bastard has taken an innocent child to destroy. He will do anything in his power to end that little bastard. He took his son and now he has taken his child’s best friend, his sister, his caretaker before Bruce could be that for him. He would pay. 

He yanks himself away from his lover and storms to the Batcave in his boxers with a vicious determination. He manages to suit up before messaging Babs to come to the Cave ASAP. They are not letting the Joker get away with another pedicide. 

A battery of tests reveal that the hair is in fact Joker’s. Which was expected. What was not expected was what showed up on the screen afterwards. A genetic match in the system for a relative. That had never happened before now. He looks at the match and is stunned to see that it is Rebecca. Rebecca Anne Napier. That means that Napier is Joker’s real last name. He didn’t kidnap her because of any connection to Jason she may have had, she was visited by Robin quite frequently on patrols, but because she was his own flesh and blood. This further complicates things. Bruce looks further into her records. She was born at Gotham General on November 9th, 1998 at 2:48 AM to Jeannie Napier and Jack Napier. Jack Napier aka the Joker had died December 22, 2008 the same night as his wife. She was orphaned at age ten and left to fend for herself. She met Jason sometime during then and took him in when she could barely even provide for herself. She spent a short sentence in juvvie for drug dealing, which he remembers because he got her out of there by signing guardianship papers and using his array of lawyers because Jason begged him to. It shouldn’t have taken begging. She emancipated herself from him as soon as she turned sixteen and presumably moved into that rathole she was living in. 

Bruce feels a great swell of pity for the girl that he didn’t even bother to get to know. Her life was hard, harder than his had ever been at the same age. He had Alfred and Leslie and Harvey to lean on when he was spiralling but Rebecca had had no one. She was Jason’s rock but no one had ever filled the position for her and right now he wishes that he had bothered to get to know the girl before his son died and she was taken by a mad man. He should have been there for her and now he may have lost his chance and a girl might have lost her life. 

Selina comes up behind him quietly, her eyes racing over the huge screen of the Batcomputer. 

"What's going on Bruce?"

He turns off the screen. "Nothing." 

"Bruce we've been over this. Sharing is part of this relationship. And I know all your kids. She isn't one so what's the big deal?"

"She should have been. I failed her and now her life is in danger."

Oh. Selina had been there for him right after Jason up until he pushed her away. But this doesn't make sense. Batman usually gets worked up into a rage when the Gotham psychos take kids but he never gets  _ depressed  _ over it. This one is different.

"So what is her relation to you? And the Joker, did he do something?"

"She was a friend to Jason. She took care of him on the streets. Joker took her because she's his daughter."

" _ Ew.  _ Someone had kids with that guy?" 

"She is nothing like him and she's too old for her to have been born after he became the Joker. She was his child before."

"I see. So you're trying to get her back for Jason's memory."

"I'm trying to get her back because she was always a good person and she doesn't deserve to die at the hands of that psychopath."

Thankfully, Barbara comes in at this moment. She and Selina have a tense relationship. But they're working through it. Girls Night is something they've worked out between them. They go out and find as many rapists and pimps as possible to beat while they chat. She walks over to the lockers and goes to change. She's going to have to work the case during the day while Bruce takes his shift at WE. She was gonna need coffee out the ass, this is going to be a long day and a longer night but it's worth it if it means she gets her "little sister" back. 


	5. At This Point, Numbness is the Best Coping Mechanism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go slightly uphill from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: rape (incest), torture (electroshock, force feeding, restraint punishment), graphic depictions of violence, consentual sex (mentioned), noncon pregnancy, urine 

Tim got back to his house late. In fact, he almost got caught by his parents coming back from a party. He slides into bed just in time for his mom to make a rare trip to his room just to make sure he’s there. Nothing ever changes, they just want to make sure that their long term investment is safe. He goes through the little hidden door behind his bookcase into his dark room after Janet leaves. The photos from tonight are amazing - Batman and Catwoman together again! He’s secretly wanted those two to get together for a long while and now it seems that it's finally happening. 

As he waits for the film to develop he looks at some of his past conquests. There are several photos of Robin midair like he’s the real thing. He is always so tough but cheerful. He loves his job. Or should he say loved. Robin is dead because Jason is dead. Jason. He had only met Robin two times and each of them were at galas held by Bruce Wayne - aka the big bad Bat himself. Jason and Tim had never spoken past what was necessary, mostly due to the fact that each of them had social anxiety and were generally introverted. Tim would rather mess around on his Gameboy while hiding under a buffet table and Jason would rather sulk in the corner and sneak champagne flutes off caterers or smoke cigarettes on the balcony. But from what he got from Jason, he'd a pretty tough life. But he was a good person inside and that was all that mattered. 

Robin was entirely different. Robin had joy and life breathed into him by the Gotham night air and he was a firecracker. Tim admired that. He himself was shy and had a very tough time speaking outside of the talking points Janet had rehearsed with him. He rarely spoke of his passions for games or computers or photography, not that he could speak of the last one because an eleven year old kid should not be running around following Gotham’s vigilantes around. Still, Jason was something else. He was also pretty in either suit. Tim just wished that he had had the wherewithal to speak to the second Robin when he was alive. 

Jason had also had a shadow. A girl named Rebecca Napier who Tim found to be Jason’s older sister figure. She had grown up on the streets alongside him and Tim had a few pictures of her and Jason together. She went to Gotham Academy with him and was in the same classes as Dick Grayson before he graduated, even though she was three years behind him. She stayed near Jason no matter what and protected him from the pretentious snobs at the galas who would say anything derisive about the boy and she knew how to do it without getting reprimanded. But Tim didn’t really pay much more attention to her than that as he had much more interesting targets, but now she’s missing and just a few months after Jason’s death too. Too coincidental for two people close to the Bat to die and go missing within two months of one another; that’s just how long it took it to get in the paper, knowing the Bat he’s been sitting on this information for a while. So who exactly did this and why is he picking off members of the Bat’s family? 

Across town, exactly  _ who _ was coming into the cell where he had dumped the poor girl. She’s sitting with her jaw wired shut, shaking, and bound in a straitjacket in the corner of the dank room. It had been a week and a half with the Joker and she was not coping with it well. Becca had lost the will to eat so she has been force fed twice daily through a straw, she still kicks at her guards and so she was given ankle restraints and tied upside down. Electroshock therapy has been daily and for longer periods ongoing until she had started to lose some of her hair. Her skin is peeling in several areas and itchy white and raw she’s becoming thinner. Now he comes in stumbling and slurring in his normal accent, the one that Jack Napier brought to America from Ireland when he was in his early twenties, the accent she had grown up with. 

“Jeannie...Jeannie…” He’s trash wasted and hallucinating things from another life ago. “Jeannie...Becky’s asleep….let's knock boots..hehe.” Oh no. Nonononononononono. Not that.  _ Anything but that.  _ He stumbles a little closer almost falling on the floor. He steadies himself on the wall and grins, those horrible yellow teeth glinting in the faint light from between the boards on the window. Becca squirms and tries to inch her way into a different corner. She can’t run. She can’t scream. She can’t even stand up. 

_ What am I supposed to do? _

He tries to walk towards her and he does fall on the floor. Becca starts trying to move a little faster. He starts crawling to her. “Jeannie c’mere,  A mhuirnín.”  _ NONONONONONONONO _

She manages to get halfway to the other wall before he grabs her by the ankle and starts dragging her to him. She can’t shake him off no matter how hard she kicks. Malnourishment has already taken her energy and sapped her strength. She is dragged over to where Joker is on his knees keening after her like some lost puppy. She screams as loud as she can with her jaw wired shut but she knows that no one will hear her. Evenif they do they won’t do anything to help her. 

Jack turns her on her back and holds her close to him and strokes her face. “Heh...Jeannie why do you look so scared?” He frowns now and Becca starts to sob. She doesn’t like where this is going. “Why won’t you answer me?” He sounds desperate in his plea, but she can’t answer and tell him that she is his daughter and his wife is long dead, all she can do is watch.

Joker goes from simpering to raging at the flip of a switch. He slaps her hard enough for the wire in her mouth to cut her cheek and gums, filling her mouth with blood and blacking her eye. She hits the ground hard and is dazed for a few seconds only to regain her sight and hearing in time to hear him removing his belt.  _ Oh God _ . She tries to move again only for him to pin her, she’s trapped and with no way of escape from her fate in the latest of this horror show. He’s rough in removing her ripped filthy jeans and tears through her panties. She tries to kick him only for one of his hands to move to her neck and start choking her. His invasion burns and stings like all unholy hell but she can’t do anything with black spots crawling into her vision and her arms bound by the straitjacket. He shows no mercy and plows through her harshly and at some points in her dazed and oxygen deprived state she acknowledged that she might be torn. He removed his hand from her neck allowing her raw and aching lungs to get some air. And then everything slams into fuller focus, the pain is intensified now that her brain has the oxygen it needs to receive signals from the rest of her body and she starts to cry. Before she was too out of it but now gut wrenching sobs escape her throat. Despite everything that happened this was her father. And while she was reassured in knowing that her virginity had been long gone it still could have been and she was at his mercy. What if she got pregnant? She was sure he was not wearing a condom. 

It was hours before he stopped. He had spat on her, hit her, and even pissed on her for good measure although she’s not entirely sure that was on purpose he was so wasted that he was hallucinating his dead wife after all. He left her there bloody and broken and alone in the dark. She cried herself to sleep once again. 

  
  
  


In a cemetery across town, if one had superhuman hearing, they would be able to hear the scratching of nails on wood. Something was moving underground. Hazy visions and sensations plague the would-be cadaver under the earth. He cannot breathe, he must escape. He slams his palms against the heavy mahogany lid of his coffin. Rock solid. No room to wind for a proper blow but he tries anyway making his knuckles bloody in the process. _ Control your breathing,  _ something says to him,  _ do not hyperventilate or you will die. _ He forces his diaphragm to slow itself so that he does not consume the five hours of oxygen that he has. His legs are stiff and numb and he can hardly move them to kick at the lid. He doesn’t break for a second despite the wood splintering into his hands as he struggles with the thick wood and the pressure of the dirt above it. 

Hands bloody and numb, he claws through the soil into the damp Gotham air. The scent of rain is heavy and the ground is wet, just stopped. He looks around at the graves with wide eyes, full of wariness.  _ Gauge your surroundings first… _ a faint memory. He looks down and the first thing he does is rip his necktie off like it was made of lice. Then he chucks his shoes, damn things are too narrow. He crawls out of the hole he's in and goes East. East is where home is. He coughs and it wracks him with pain. Ribs broken, pneumothorax on the left side.  _ Fuck.  _ The word comes unbidden. He struggles Eastward until he comes to a fence and he clamors over it with little grace. Blood soaks the front of his suit jacket and runs down his legs from the holes in his body. He coughs up pleghm mixed with blood, old and new.  _ Slow down but keep moving...not safe… _

A hand covers his mouth and a needle meets sallow skin and his vision goes black. 

  
  


Talia al Ghul was prepared for many things, being the next Demon Head. Her father had sent her to Gotham to accost one Mr. Bruce Wayne and try to sway him to his side with the promise of his son sired of himself and Talia. She was also there on personal business. She was prepared to fight the Batman once again, to face him in his time of merciless grieving. What she was not prepared for, was watching one Jason Peter Todd dig himself out of his own grave. He was still injured and now more so with the loss of his fingernails and the knuckles skinned to the bone, but he crawled across wet gravedirt with determination she had come to expect from him. She decided to follow, she had come to pay her respects to the boy after all, perhaps now she could do something better. A gift for the Batman, something she could return...his son. 

She always kept sedatives on her, one never knew when an abduction was necessary, and prepped a needle. Calling her men was of ease and she alerted her guard that she would be having a most honored guest and to prep medical supplies. She tailed the boy to the fence near the east gate and when he jumped over and dissolved into a mess of bloody hacking she stuck him. He passed out neatly into her arms and a car appeared at the curb, she ushered her companion in and the car sped off. This would surely earn her back into Bruce's heart, she has what no one can give him and the ability to restore him to glory. She knew of Selina Kyle and what she meant to Bruce, but it mattered not. She cannot compare to her, Talia al Ghul veritable royalty. 

Running her fingers absently through wavy black and red hair, she smirked bemused. She had never known that Robin II was a redhead; maybe she would convince him to keep it once he woke up and was healed. His head sat on her lap, her hand resting on his forehead while the other stroked his grown out roots gently. Jason made a soft keening sound in his sleep almost like a kitten and she had to resist the urge to giggle, as one of her stature should never do. He almost reminds her of Damian when he was a very young child. She keeps her face passive. 

"Search for all information on Jason Peter Todd." She commands one of her guard as they pull up to the hotel. She picks him up easily, concerning, considering the boy is almost sixteen, and carries him to the elevator. Another of her guard pushes the button for the penthouse suite. She lays him on one of the beds and cuts off his shirt. Several gaping holes riddle his torso, most of which are filled in with dirty gauze, bleeding anew. 

This was going to be a long night.


	6. If I Wanted Your Opinion, I Would Have Asked For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five months later, Dick comes home to Gotham on business. Bruce has lost it, Barbara is still beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Beta this chapter, we die like men.

_ Five months later _

Batman was becoming a regular menace, the police who used to be professionally linked with the Bat have fallen into outs with him, as have the Justice League. No one wants to deal with a mourning, angry Bat. No one wanted to deal with him less than Dick Grayson who is in Gotham on Nightwing business. Bruce is being especially careless as he fights Scarecrow tonight, two hypodermic needles sticking out of the kevlar on his right shoulder and he’s shrugged them right off and kept pounding Crane into the ground. Dick watches as Batman swings a haymaker right into Crane’s temple, causing him to crumple to the ground like a wet rag. Batman didn’t stop, he jumped on top of Scarecrow and proceeded to continue beating the hell out of a man who was already unconscious. Dick looked on, appalled, from his hiding spot. He knew Bruce knew he was there and that he was ignoring his presence. He was fine with that at the moment, anything to delay the conversation that needed to happen as soon as he stopped beating on Crane. 

Bruce was broken. Something had been wrought loose inside of himself and he cannot fix it. He has tried everything grief counseling, antidepressants, journaling; nothing worked. Nothing worked except for this. Beating on the criminal classes until he didn’t feel quite as hurt as he used to. Jason’s loss destroyed him and Rebecca going missing rubbed salt in the wound. Joker is still at large and that enraged him beyond comprehension. There is no excuse for why that piece of shit is still alive other than the fact that he has been uncomfortably quiet these last few months. Very out of character, especially considering that after victory he likes to gloat on a massive and very public scale. There has been nothing. No celebratory building demolitions, no widespread gas attacks, no robberies, and it has made Bruce nearly primal in his rage. He wants nothing more than to beat Joker to death with his bare hands. He took his son from him and for that alone, he deserves all that Bruce can send his way. 

Dick waits ten more minutes before Batman gets up and turns toward him. He steps from his hiding spot and greets Bruce with a dip of the head. His way of announcing that he would be in Gotham for a few days at least. Bruce’s face softened a micrometer and he motioned Nightwing to follow him to the roof. 

“Didn’t you give me lectures for excessive use of force before?” Dick taunts, knowing that that is most likely the worst way he can bridge the subject, but he isn’t looking to be nice tonight. 

“Didn’t you say that you were never coming back?” Bruce grunts back.  _ Well, at least his sense of humor is intact.  _

“Yes. I did. But this takes precedence, Joker is making a move.” Bruce halts at that and visibly hardens. 

“Cave. Now.” With that, Batman jumped off the roof and grappled down to the Batmobile, which had just pulled up below them. Nightwing followed him down and got onto his motorcycle and followed Bruce back to the Cave. 

Once they got there, and Alfred was given his dues, Bruce all but dragged Dick to the computer and demanded answers. 

“He’s decided to leave you alone for now and go after Superman. It seems the clown does, in fact, have a preservation instinct. The only reason I know is that he is gathering goons from the tri-county area. Lots of the petty crooks in Bludhaven are looking for an upgrade in status and Joker’s employment is a huge statement on their resumes, as it were. I also found out from one of my informants that Joker just got a huge shipment of explosives and about 15 kilograms of kryptonite from Lex Luthor.” Dick explains as Bruce hard stares at him. This is the chance that he knows Bruce has been  _ aching  _ for, but its Clark’s jurisdiction even though it’s Bruce’s rogue. Clark and Bruce have been on the outs lately considering Bruce’s worse than usual social skills. Dick also knows that when he wants to be Bruce can be a class A kiss-ass. 

“Thank you, Dick. If you want,” Bruce’s voice becomes brittle, hollow, and full of pleading sadness, “your room is upstairs. You could stay the night.” Dick almost caves, but he is still mad at Bruce for causing him to miss the funeral and for not telling him that Jason had run off in the first place. Bruce was acting like this only affected him. It didn’t. 

Dick may not have known Jason very well but he did care about him. He cared about the only other person to carry the title of Robin not because he wanted to preserve the reputation that the name holds, but because there was one other person in the world that understood what it was like to feel that kind of freedom, the highs, and the lows. Dick may not have interacted with Jason very much because he was still angry at Bruce for not treating him as an equal, but he made damn sure of three things while the boy was still training: that Dick was always there if Jason needed him, how to fall, and how to escape just about any kind of restraint. Jason never called him, largely because he took Bruce’s side and also because the boy was stubborn and determined to be independent and when Bruce came back with a corpse Dick felt bereft. He had lost the chance to have a brother and he finally understood that. 

“No thank you. I have a hotel.” He heads down to the garage where he parked his bike, gets on, and leaves. He probably should have stayed. He knew that Bruce was in a bad way, but there was only so much of Bruce he could take right now. He still cared though, he knew that he always would, but their relationship had taken a beating and he needed some time to heal. 

When Barbara’s apartment came into view, he stashed his bike and changed into the civvie clothes that he keeps in the saddlebags on his bike. Then he goes inside and up to her floor. He knocks one time before the door is flung open and he is met with the sight of fire-red hair and horn-rimmed glasses and freckles. The smile that comes over his face is uncontrollable. It might be embarrassing, but he’s had a thing for one Barbara Gordon for as long as he had known her. She was his first crush after all, as Batgirl, and then again as that older girl who worked in the school library at Gotham Academy. He spent a surprising amount of time in that library if only to see her. Her smile and her hair were two of the things he missed most about Gotham when he had moved. Barbara’s soft smile makes his cheeks burn with a blush that is barely hidden by his tan. 

“Next time you come to town, warn me, you idiot.” Her glare is playful, and those green eyes of her stare into his soul. He shudders a laugh. 

“I didn’t know I would be coming to town until about six hours ago, Babs, otherwise I would have called. How’s college?” Dick smirks as he strolls into her living room and flops down on her overstuffed couch. 

“Take your shoes off before you dirty up my rug, and it’s been up and down. Criminology has been a blast, and I am going to be taking a Criminal Psychology course next semester. I might write my thesis on the Riddler’s narcissistic personality disorder and how that factors into his motives for committing the crimes that he does. Forensics labs have been hellish this week, mainly due to the fact that we haven’t even gotten to the interesting stuff like blood spatters, we’re still running fingerprints until the professor says that we are “competent” enough to handle the DNA work. I wish I could tell her that I have been running those tests since I was a freshman in high school.” Babs hands Dick a beer and flops on the couch next to him as she monologues. Dick, contrary to what some would believe, pays rapt attention to the words that she speaks. She truly is amazingly smart, she could have gone into literally any profession and she chose to study criminology to follow in her father’s footsteps. To be completely honest, girls like Barbara Gordon could take over the world and have almost no complaints once people got used to the new world order, or at least, he wouldn’t. 

“I bet. I remember when we had to learn basic forensics and we spent literal weeks on blood spatter patterns. I was tuned out the whole time. I already knew all the answers.” Bruce was nothing if not thorough to a fault, part of his training was hours of forensics. 

She laughs that awkward snorting laugh that he loves. “How long were you planning on spending in town?” 

“Not long. Five days max.” His mood sours at the question. If only this silly woman knew that if she asked he would stay forever and go through the absolute torture of working under her father. (The man knew about his crush and had already given him half the shovel talk. The other half was something he was not looking forward to even though it would be worth it.) 

“What’s up?” A loaded question. 

“Really I’m here to watch B. Joker is starting some shit up in Metropolis.” Barbara has her “work face” in an instant and almost dives for her laptop. She and Bruce are on better terms so of course, she’s going to help. 

“I have been tracking his movements but I haven’t heard anything about him going to Metropolis. How is he getting past me!?” If this weren’t serious business he would kiss the little divot between her eyebrows. 

“I only heard because I got lucky one night. He’s keeping all of this on the hush-hush. He also is hauling special cargo.” He reminds her.

“Rebecca.” She croaks, voice completely hollow. Dick may have never formally been introduced to the girl and they had certainly never spoken but she had been close to Jason, his older sister and caretaker when he was living on the streets, and to Barbara. Babs loved Becca like a sister and they used to hang out at least three times a week per Dick’s understanding. He had only known her when he was in high school and she was that shy little sophomore that was in his Calculus and English classes as a senior. She never spoke a word to anyone unless she was answering the teacher and she never got a thing wrong. She was smart as a whip. Taking Anatomy Phys and AP Chem that year as well, he could practically  _ smell _ med school on her. 

It hurts that Joker has claimed not one but two members of his little patchwork family in one year, even if he wasn’t intimately acquainted with either one of them. It was still way too close to home. The fact of the matter was, they didn’t know if Rebecca Anne Napier was alive. It had been almost six months since she had been taken and there hasn’t been a trace of her since. Joker had been moving her around constantly since he knew that there would be a search party looking for the poor chit. He gave nothing away and had been almost dead silent until now. Either he was doing the job for laughs or he needed Lex’s money and that was troubling. What does he need the money for? That’s what they really needed to worry about if Bruce didn’t throw his crazy ass back into Arkham. 

“We’ll get her back. Especially if we catch him.” If. The word left a sour taste in his mouth. They would get her back, whatever it took. No one deserves to suffer at the hands of that monster, let alone a child. It didn’t matter if you were seven, seventeen, or seventy; that man was too much for anyone to handle, as the many therapists he has either driven out of the business or driven mad have proven. 

“I hope so.” She sighs and leans into his chest, pulling the laptop of case files and surveillance feeds into her lap so he can see it too. Her bugs were invaluable and once he pointed her in the right direction they would have all the information they needed. Nightwing, Batgirl, and Batman would take that sick motherfucker down in Metropolis. There was no debating that. And once they got Becca back he would introduce himself to her and hopefully, be able to connect to Jason a little more. She meant the world to him and Babs and he wanted to know why. 


End file.
